Let Me Blow Your Troubles Away
by lucacat4
Summary: I feel childish and demoralized, which makes me feel worse. I. HATE. HAVING. BAD. DAYS. ... I open my mouth to scold whoever was so careless as to careen into me like that, eyes tracking ratty shoes and up a couple of jean-clad legs, up to a handsome, strong-jawed face framed by floppy, longish brown hair. A giant, freakishly tall, overgrown puppy. **Desperate for reviews, please!


I think everyone's a little shell-shocked, coming back to college after three months of summer vacation. Too much relaxation, at least in my case-it's so easy to slip into the lazy routine of long summer days, sleeping in late, lounging downstairs in pajamas, usually nothing more strenuous than pouring a cup of coffee in order to stagger back upstairs for another few hours of sleep. Ok, I admit that I was pretty lazy this summer, but I honestly really love college. I've got a lot of friends, a nice roommate, and I'm definitely a little bit (a lot bit?) of a geek, so I just like learning.

But-that doesn't mean I appreciate it when my alarm rings on the first day back to school, 'specially today: one of my classes meets at 10:00am twice a week, and I'm still used to going to bed late and then sleeping all day. Plus, my friends and I may have stayed up way too late last night, chatting and watching Doctor Who...just maybe.

Anyway, I woke up this morning to a bleeping alarm, frizzy hair, and a definite lack of caffeine coursing through my bloodstream. The preferable solution would be to toss on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt and make a quick run to Starbucks in the hour I have before I need to go to class, but somehow I think I'd collapse halfway down the block if I try to walk all of five minutes just yet. Maybe the vending machine down the hall could be a substitute.

Note to self: vending machine coffee is gross. I think I may have been just a tiny bit spoiled from having nice, French press coffee made for me every morning for the last couple of months, but this bitter sludge tastes faintly of licorice, which I despise, and strongly of just plain old ick. I can feel the grumpiness creeping in, and, though I try to stuff it back down, I can tell this just isn't going to be one of my better days. Great way to start sophomore year, right?

Two hours into my morning lab, I'm feeling tired, pale, and drab. My pencil runs out of graphite, the tag of my shirt is _really itching my neck_, my table partner is a weird, pimpled boy who prefers humming tonelessly and incessantly under his breath to talking with me, and we've been assigned forty pages of reading in the textbook. Oh, joy. I feel an uncharacteristic twinge of anger as my backpack zipper refuses to pull together, and by the time class ends, I'm pretty sure that there's a little wisp of steam coming out of my ears. I feel childish and demoralized, which in turn makes me feel even worse.

As I leave the classroom, my foot gets caught in someone's backpack strap, and though I manage to catch myself, my arms flail and I stumble heavily and ungracefully against the door of the classroom. Stupid day.

Lunch makes me feel a little better, though. The cafeteria isn't so crowded, so the lines are short and it's only a few minutes before I'm sitting down to eat. A couple of elated freshmen boys stomp noisily into the dining hall, and I can't help smiling a little at their eagerness. I was so excited on my first day, too. A few friends join me, and one of them has brought cupcakes to celebrate being back to school. With the combination of a lot of sugar and a large mug of coffee, I'm feeling more human, and looking forward to going to my next class. I have a couple of hours of free time first, and though I do consider starting the homework, which is already piling up ominously, I dismiss the thought and turn back to the conversation. Who cares about homework, anyway? Plenty of time to do it later.

That was definitely a mistake. Dinnertime finds me starving and with hours of homework, facing what's probably going to be an all-nighter. My morning blues are back in full force, and now I'm sleepy, hungry, and dreading my homework. A few minutes of procrastination turn into a full twenty, and now I'm seriously angry. The fact that I'm to blame just makes me even more upset, and by the time I'm making the walk back to my dorm from dinner, I'm even more discouraged by the laughter and bright lights that taunt me; couples are strolling around the campus, friends eating ice cream and takeout on the benches, and a bunch of boys are running around the green playing frisbee. I decide that the best thing to do will be to cut through the student lounge and take a shortcut to the library, where I can be sure of some peace and quiet.

I can hear running feet in the hallways, and several boys laughing and calling to each other. They're probably having a party, and a good one by the sounds of it-back-to-school-night is usually full of rowdy bunches of students blowing off a little steam, but no one ever comes to any harm.

"Aww, c'mon guys, not fair! Seriously, you gotta help me with this, don't leave me here! Jeff, dude, how about a hand?" Sounds like someone's fallen victim to a friend's prank, but he doesn't sound distressed. The voice is nice, low but warm, bubbling over with laughter, and I can hear footsteps around the corner. "You guys _suck!_ You'll pay for this, you hear me?!"

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, keeping one eye on the floor while I walk forward, head bowed over my texts. It's my roommate, Carolyn: _Hey, you on a date? Someone cute?_

_Haha, I wish_, I text back quickly. _Nope, just heading over to the li-_

With that, someone hits me and I stumble backwards, thumping hard on to the floor. I open my mouth to yell at whoever was so careless, eyes tracking a pair of shoes and up a couple of jean-clad legs...and up… and up till they finally scan a flannel button down flopping open over a grey t-shirt, and above that a strong-jawed face framed by slightly long, floppy brown hair. The guy's eyes are blindfolded, I realize with a start, so no wonder he didn't see me.

The boy gasps in surprise and consternation. "Oh god, I am _so_ sorry, are you ok? My friends tied this around my eyes for a prank and the knot's too tight for me to undo when I can't see… I am really sorry, did I hurt you?"

I laugh as I pick myself up, surprised at myself for not being more annoyed. He looks so stricken, even though I can't see his eyes, his face blushing and his mouth worried, hands outstretched in a blind attempt to reach out to me. I grab one of his hands and he pulls me up with a firm grip, mouth twitching and a pair of adorable dimples peeping out as he tries not to laugh. And wow, this guy's crazy tall, at least a couple of inches over six feet and well past my own five foot eight.

"Don't worry about it, I'm fine. No harm done."

His face creases into a full smile even as a girly blush floods his cheeks, and his lips part to reveal very white teeth. "Good, I'm glad. Wow, that was really embarrassing, can I apologize and then try to forget that ever happened?"

I cross behind him and rise up on tiptoe to undo the knot of the bandana. "Already forgotten, or will be if you tell me your name. I think you owe me that."

"Hey, I'm Sam. Sam Winchester," he says as the bandana falls away and he turns to reveal a pair of expressive eyes that aren't quite green or blue or brown but something in between. I have to raise my eyes just to make eye contact with him, and I can't help thinking that he looks like an adorable, overgrown, floppy-haired puppy. But the kindness is real and genuine, I can tell, and his half-apologetic, half-laughing smile is hard to resist, so I won't hold anything against him.

"Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Jessica Moore."

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and shakes his bangs out from his forehead. "Nice to meet you, too. I can see I'm going to have to assert my good intentions-may I help you carry some of that?" He gestures to the full backpack and heavy drawstring bag on my back, and I can't help feeling a blush of pleasure at his gentlemanly manners.

"That's very kind, thank you. I'd appreciate that very much."

He extends a massive hand, and relieves me of not one, but both bags, slinging them over his shoulder as if they contained feathers instead of mammoth, heavy textbooks. I guess I gape a little bit, because he laughs again, and grins teasingly. "There's room for more, if you'd like to hop on," he says, gesturing behind him and miming a piggyback ride.

I know he's probably just joking, but I can't help it, I'm caught up in the sheer spontaneity and daring amusement of the moment, so I gesture for him to bend down. "Alright then, down you go."

He stares unblinkingly at me for a fraction of a second, then winks in an exaggerated gesture of charm and drops down on his knees. "You said it, Jessica. No turning back now!"

I giggle and forget my usual shyness, perching on his broad back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders while he grabs me by the ankles and effortlessly raises himself back up.

Sam tilts his head backwards and upwards, and I gaze down at him and stick my tongue out. He does the same, pretending to stumble and then chuckling at my yelp.

"Don't worry, Jessica. I won't let you fall, I promise."

In that moment, all my frustration is forgotten. Why? Why does a total stranger manage to clear away the gloom in one swift stroke?

I don't know, and in that moment, I don't care.

In that moment, jouncing on his shoulders and feeling his arms secure me tightly, I don't care, because I've never been so happy.


End file.
